For The Dawn
by I-xAmx-Unwritten
Summary: Introducing two original charries, one Rohirrim, one Wizard. Both will help change the destiny of Middle-Earth. Pairings: OC/Eomer, OC/Boromir.
1. Chapter 1

-Meduseld, 7 July 3018 Third Age

"Rhiannon, come. The time is here."

Without a word, a tall young woman slipped from her bed as the chamber was once again encased in darkness, and leaned down, pulling a travel bag from beneath her bed. Moving quickly, she changed into a pair of dark leggings and a long tunic before sliding her thick sock clad feet into a pair of soft boots. Picking up a thick leather belt, she carefully fastened it around her waist before sliding two knives into either side of it, readily at hand if needed. Glancing around the room to make sure nothing was out of place, and no one was hovering in the shadows, watching her, she picked up a thick, fur-lined traveling cloak and settled it around her shoulders, fastening it with care before pulling her long brown locks from beneath the heavy material. Picking up the bag, she lifted it onto her shoulder before picking up a sword in its sheath from a trunk, and slipping from the chamber. Her dark blue eyes darted the hall as she made her way through the cavernous area as quietly and quickly as possible, thankful for years of sneaking around that she knew her way through the hall. Letting herself out a side door, she hurried down to the stables.

"That was faster than I expected. Eliana is ready, as is Hama." Theodred, the prince of Rohan nodded towards two figures standing with him.

"Will this truly work, brother?" Rhiannon, Lady and Fourth Marshall of the Mark of Rohan raised her eyebrows at her foster brother before glancing at the two figures there with them.

"It will. Eliana and Hama will ride towards Gondor, and I will tell Grima and Father that you are going to care for an ailing aunt. Eliana will care for the elderly woman, and Hama will return here, while you ride to take Rohan's place with Boromir at Rivendell." The young price spoke quietly as he helped Hama fasten Rhiannon's sword to her horse. "Eliana looks enough like you from a distance that no one will tell the difference."

Giving a short nod, Rhiannon easily mounted her horse, as the other woman and the soldier mounted theirs. All three riders raised their hoods, and waited for Theodred's signal. Rhiannon rode first, directing her horse towards the west, riding as quietly as was possible. Moments later, Eliana and Hama burst from the stable together, riding for the east as Theodred made his way back up towards the hall of Meduseld, keeping his gaze towards the east, as if he knew that someone would be watching. As he reached the last step leading up to the golden hall, he feigned surprise when the door opened and a slight figure dressed completely in black stepped out, a nosy look plain on his pallid face.

"Grima." Theodred greeted his uncle's advisor with a slight nod.

"And what are you doing up at this late hour, Prince Theodred?" Grima Wormtongue eyed the young prince carefully.

"We received word that Rhiannon's aunt is ill. She and Hama are riding for Gondor now. Hama will return after he sees the lady safe in Minas Tirith." Theodred spoke quietly, nodding towards the riding figures heading east towards Gondor.

"Ah. I see." Grima looked slightly disappointed, and turned, making his way back into the hall once more.

Theodred waited until the short man was back inside, and the door shut before glancing towards the west, and could just barely make out Rhiannon's form riding hard and fast, and knew that it wouldn't take her long to meet up with Boromir, the son of the Steward of Gondor, who would be riding with her to Rivendell, to attend Elrond's council as well. Slipping back into the hall, the tall prince made his way towards the sleeping chambers, and with a worried heart, let himself disrobe and climb into his bed to sleep, and prepare to ride off with a mixture of his own men and Rhiannon's men to guard and defend the Westfold of the land.

Rhiannon kept her gaze ahead, knowing that if she was spotted, Grima would send men after her, and she knew that she wouldn't be able to outrun them forever. She needed a clean getaway, to meet Boromir near the edge of the land, so that they could make the long travel to Rivendell, which would take nearly three months. But it would be worth it. Representing Rohan was a high honor, and it should have been her foster father, King Theoden taking the spot, but with his new frailty, he wouldn't have survived the trip, and Theodred, his son, did not want to make the journey and leave his father alone. So he had chosen Rhiannon in his stead. Glancing around as she neared the border of Rohan and the open lands, she finally spotted a lone figure sitting upon a horse, covered by a thick traveling cloak and hood.

"Boromir?" She called tentatively, hoping it was the Gondorian captain she had met only a few times.

"Hello, Lady Rhiannon. I'm glad to see that you got away safely." Boromir nudged his horse, riding over to the young woman. "I saw your people riding east, and knew you would be coming soon. Was such a deception really necessary?"

"Grima Wormtongue is not to be trusted. There's something about him that is off, that makes me and my foster brother and his cousins uncomfortable. And it is not just the way that his eyes follow myself and Eowyn whenever we are in the throne hall when he is there." Rhiannon spoke quietly.

"Then it is safer for you to go to Rivendell, and meet with the council. Come, child. We ride through the night."

With a nod, Rhiannon nudged her horse easily into a trot, and slowly began moving faster, letting the horse run, as it was still somewhat untamed, which all Rhohirrim horses were. It was the horse that chose its rider, not the other way around. She had learned to ride the moment that she had been brought to Rohan, at the age of three, when her father had been killed in Osgilith. And it had been Boromir who had ridden the three day trip with Rhiannon on the saddle in front of him, delivering her to her new foster family. Letting go of the reigns, as she knew the horse would stay in the direction she had pointed her, she pulled her cloak tighter around her body to ward off the cool night air, and glanced around, to check not only for the men that Grima had corrupted coming after her, but also for roaming Orcs or Wild Men, both of whom would come after her and Boromir, and usually patrolled in groups of at least four, which would be a difficult battle. But as the land was clear, she knew that once they reached the region with the Misty Mountains, and the Redhorn Pass, they would be safe. No Orc would travel that far west without having conquered Gondor, Rohan, and be well on the way to conquering the Elves, which simply wasn't likely at this point in the strength of the Eye.

"How long will you be able to ride, my lady?" Boromir spoke quietly.

"I can ride for hours, Boromir. And please, call me Rhiannon. I do not think that we need titles on this trip. It can be very informal." Rhiannon gave a faint smile, her hand stroking her horse's neck, urging him into a faster trot.

As the night waned, the pair only stopped once, to water their horses and stretch their legs before picking up the pace again, neither of them feeling fully comfortable in the flat plains, where they could be easily seen from a distance. The hills would be easier to travel in, easier to hide from enemies and unfriendly eyes, which were popping up in more and more places, as a shadow had grown not only in the east, in Mordor, but also faintly over Orthanc, the tower of the White Wizard, Saruman, which was something that Rhiannon was planning on bringing up at the council, if Saruman was not attending. If he was there, she would simply talk to Elrond alone, and express her worry. As the sun began to rise, Rhiannon glanced over her shoulder, even though Meduseld was well out of sight by now, and felt a piece of her heart being left behind her now.

"Rhiannon? You look sad for some reason. Were you not willing to leave Rohan?" Boromir kept his voice gentle, watching the younger woman.

"I was willing, Boromir, when Theodred asked me to go to the council in his stead. I merely wish that I could have told my beloved that I was leaving. But it was safer that only myself, Theodred, and two of our most trusted people what we had planned." Rhiannon spoke quietly, turning her gaze back to the west.

"You kept quiet from him for his safety. That is a noble thing to do, and nothing to be ashamed of. Who is your champion?"

"Eomer, Theodred's cousin, and the Third Marshall of the Mark. He's my captain, and my soul mate. But neither of us wish to bring a child into this troubled world. It's too dangerous, and Rohan cannot afford to lose me now."

"You make good sense. These times are uneasy, with something growing in the east and a shadow working its way across these lands. There is a chance that the land will have to offer up all the sons for war again, and it will not be pretty."

Rhiannon merely nodded, and let her mind drift to Eomer, and their long walks late into the night, having to sneak back into Meduseld to keep their relationship private from Grima. Only Theodred, Hama, Eowyn, and now Boromir knew how truly connected she and Eomer were, that they both knew that there would be no one else for either of them. But she knew that his stubbornness and his hatred of Grima were becoming more and more apparent, and she worried for his safety, especially with her gone, and if he thought that she was simply in Gondor, not in Rivendell, as she had no way of knowing if Theodred would share the information of where she was with Eomer or Eowyn. Forcing herself to focus on the path that she and Boromir were creating, Rhiannon looked towards the west, wishing that it wouldn't take them three months to travel to Rivendell.

[A/N: I've decided to finally put my LOTR fic on the internet. I'm actually combining two versions that I had, with two separate original characters. This is the introduction of the first, Rhiannon. My second is actually a Wizard, and she'll be introduced in the next chapter. The first few chapters will bounce back and forth between the two characters until the council at Rivendell. Enjoy!]


	2. Chapter 2

-The Red Castle, Fangorn Forest; 8 July 3018

"Irsa, you know the time has come. You must ride forth, and you must come to the council." Gandalf the Grey Wizard leaned on his staff in the library of the Red Castle, hidden deep within the Fangorn Forest, his gaze on a dark corner.

"And if I choose not to?" A low, smoky voice drifted from the shadows.

"Then you condemn Middle-Earth to Sauron's reign, and brand yourself a coward!" Gandalf's voice was low and furious.

"A coward?!"

With a snarl, Irsa the Red Wizard leapt from her chair in the corner, a furious look on her pretty face. Red curls tumbled down her back as she began pacing back and forth in the library of the sanctuary that she had built more than three thousand years before, after the Battle on the Slopes of Mount Doom. Unlike the remaining Wizards, Irsa had never aged after the war, and considered it her curse- her reminder of all she had lost. And to her, she had lost everything that she had held dear to her- her fiance, her child, all of it. So she had hidden herself away. She had rarely left her castle, and had never stepped foot outside the Forbidden Forrest in the years since, for the protection of the outside world, not her own. Anger had built up inside Irsa in the years since the war, after the initial shock and grief had passed, and she had exiled herself to the Fangorn Forest, not for her own protection, but for the protection of Middle-Earth. The rage that had built up in her would have destroyed many kingdoms, and she wasn't going to risk that. She wouldn't destroy the lands that she had once loved. Few dared to enter the shadowed woods, and if anyone ever did, they would run into the Ents before they could find her castle, with the exception of Gandalf, and the Head of the Wizard Council, whom she hadn't seen in centuries, Saruman.

"I am far from a coward, Gandalf. I was the only woman who dared to fight in the war, until the Healers discovered that I was carrying a child. Even then, even though I carried a child of Gondor's royal line, I stayed near the battlefield. I would have fought, had the need come, but I did not. Anarion was killed, Sauron deceived me, and I lost the child. I exiled myself for the sake of Middle-Earth, and all that live here." Irsa's voice was quiet.

"I know why you did what you did, Irsa. I was there when you raged, when you grieved. But Middle-Earth is now on the brink of war. If you refuse to ride forth, then you condemn not only this land to Sauron's reign, but you condemn the one that you are truly destined to be with to death. Already, Irsa, I have seen the possibilities. Men, Elves, there are many who could be meant for you." Gandalf stepped towards the younger Wizard.

"He will be a captain of Gondor, Gandalf. I was always meant to be a part of Gondor, a defender of the lands, at the Gate of Mordor."

"Irsa, you cannot keep yourself hidden any longer. I no longer think that Saruman is on the side of Middle-Earth. If my suspicions are correct, then I need you to be at my side, to take your rightful place as the second in command of the Wizards."

Irsa sighed, dropping her head as she leaned some on the desk in the room. Leaving the Fangorn would be hard for her, because she hadn't left in so many years, but she knew that Gandalf only asked because it was imperative. Even she could feel the shifting winds, hidden as deeply as she was, and she knew that Middle-Earth was about torn in two, and she would have to choose a side. And it wouldn't be difficult for her. Sauron had betrayed her in the worst way three thousand years before, and he had once been a friend. Until he had gotten greedy, power hungry and murderous, and had killed Anarion with his own hand, and caused Irsa to miscarry the child that had been safely growing inside of her womb. And when she found out that Anarion had been lead into an ambush by a traitor, something had snapped inside Irsa, and she had destroyed nearly half of the land on the other side of the camp, closer to Mordor, startling the council of Mordor enough to make sure that they kept her far from the men who had survived the attack, and when she had healed enough to leave, the Red Wizard had simply walked away from the camps, and built her home in the Fangorn Forest with the help of the Ents.

"Will you take your place in the council, Irsa? Will you ride forth for Middle-Earth once more, this time when the need is greater than ever?" Gandalf's voice was quiet as he watched the tall Wizard closely. "Will you grasp your heritage, and take up the staff as the Wizard you were truly meant to be?"

"I will go to the council, Gandalf. But do not look to me to be the salvation of Middle-Earth. It was my curse, you remember, that forbids a Wizard to touch the Ring of Power, and that I am responsible for scorching part of Gondor with my power." Irsa finally gave a nod.

"Then I ride for Isengard, to try to reason with Saruman."

Giving a short nod, Irsa waved Gandalf out of the library, and with a flick of her wrist, shut the door of the room before sinking into a chair. The idea of leaving her sanctuary did scare her, but going to the council and finding the one that she was destined to be with scared her even more. As much as she would hate to admit it to Gandalf, Sauron knew her entirely too well. He had known that she would snap, that she would leave the war if he killed her lover, and he had personally slain the one man that Irsa had loved then. And she knew that there were several potentials in Gondor that she could be destined for, but she knew that it would be the one who stood for Gondor at the council. But she also knew that the moment they met, he would instantly come into some of the worst danger of his life, because Sauron knew that to destroy Irsa, he would have to destroy her destined mate. But she also knew that he would win if she didn't at least try, if she kept herself in exile. She knew that that would be a victory for him.

Steely determination in her dark green eyes, Irsa strode from the library, the door opening in front on her its own, and then shut behind her. Taking long steps, she easily crossed the distance of the main hall to the stairs, climbing them with ease. The door to her private chambers swung open as she walked into them. Hesitating a moment, she opened a tall wooden case by hand and simply looked at her staff sitting in the case. Taking a deep breath, she slowly closed her hand around the redwood, and instantly felt the familiar warmth flood her body as the large ruby embedded in the top of the staff flared to life. A small, faint smile flitted across her face as she kept the staff in her hand, crossing to another tall wooden chest. Opening it, she drew out a dark green riding outfit that would help her blend in to the surrounding areas as she rode to Rivendell. Shedding the black tunic and leggings that had been her usual garb, she drew on the looser fitting pants and then pulled the tunic over her head. Fastening a thick leather belt around her waist, she lifted her sword from the chest and easily slid it into its sheath, which was dangling from the belt. A quick flick of her wrist brought her thick riding cloak out of its chest, and she quickly swung it around her shoulders. Thick soled boots were pulled onto her feet as she gripped her staff again before striding out of the room. Making a quick stop in the kitchen, she carefully prepared a bag of food that would last through her travel, which would take just over three months.

Letting the doors of the main entrance of her castle swing open, Irsa took a deep breath of the fresh woods air as she stepped outside, and turned towards the stables that she had built on the land, where she trained horses brought to her from Rohan by Gandalf. Selecting the one that had been trained for long-distance travel, she quickly saddled it, and led it out of the stable. A quick glance around told her that the Ents were elsewhere, but she knew that they would still defend her home, even if they discovered that she had left. She trusted the Ents, especially Treebeard, with her life, and knew that the Ent appreciated her explicit trust. Pausing just outside the gate to her castle and the small bit of surrounding land, she carefully slid her staff into a sling across her back, and easily mounted her horse, letting her cloak settle around her. Lifting her hood to complete darken her face and hide her very noticeable hair, she gripped the reins for the horse in one hand, nudging it into a fast gallop with a quick nudge of her heels. She had missed the feel of open riding, of the urgency and need to get somewhere to make sure that something happened like it should. But it was still difficult knowing that she would have to face some of her past, with Elrond who was now the Lord of Rivendell, being there, as well as Gandalf. And the knowledge that whoever was her destined mate would be there as well.

It took her only a couple hours to pick the most cautious and hidden way out of the Fangorn, and she knew that she was close to Isengard, and could only hope that Saruman was preoccupied with something else, and wouldn't see her riding through the Redhorn Pass, her true home. She knew that eventually, she would either have to reclaim the land after the war, or deed it to someone else, someone who was worthy enough to rebuild the land, and make it flourish once more. Hunching somewhat over her horse, she chanced a glance up at Orthanc, and could hear from the sounds ringing out that Saruman was indeed busy, and her passing the tower and through the Redhorn Pass would go unnoticed, which was best for all, if Gandalf's suspicions were correct. Taking a deep breath, she focused her gaze ahead, knowing that once she reached Rivendell, she would have to explain much to Elrond, for she had suspicions that he wouldn't have forgiven her yet for abandoning the war like she had, even if she had scorched part of Mordor in aid for the Alliance. But for now, she had to focus on the present, not the memory of what had been, for everything was about to change for Middle-Earth, and Irsa was one of the only ones who knew what the change could bring.

[This chapter is short, as well as the first, but the chapters will get longer as the story goes on, and I am able to combine the two parts into one. I believe the next chapter will be the first to have both Rhiannon and Irsa in it, and it will also serve as the meeting of Irsa and her Destiny- Boromir. I do know that Wizards didn't appear on Middle-Earth until well after the war, according to the appendices, but this is my story, and as such, I get to have fun with it, just like there were no female Wizards in the original story. I will also be revisiting Rohan in the next chapter, for Eomer to discover that Rhiannon has left, and to show the extreme tension growing in the land due to Saruman's influence. Enjoy, and review, please! -Ky]


	3. Chapter 3

-Meduseld, Edoras, Rohan

"Where is she? Theodred, you cannot ignore me any longer. Where is she?" Eomer, the son of Eomer and nephew of Theoden glared at his cousin, fear and anger in his eyes.

"Where is who, Cousin?" Theodred arched an eyebrow, trying to remain as calm as possible.

"My Rhiannon. Where is she? Grima said that she was on her way to Gondor to care for an elderly aunt, but I know as well as you do that she does not have any relatives alive in Gondor!"

"Eomer, watch your tongue!" Theodred's gaze darted around, to make sure that Grima and his men weren't anywhere near them. "Rhiannon is safe. Grima had forbidden her to take her Rhohirrim out, and decreed that she had to stay near the hall. I sent her to Rivendell, to Elrond's council to let them know of Saruman's betrayal. She is safer away from here, especially considering I am riding out to the Westfold at dawn, and you would not be able to adequately protect both Rhiannon and Eowyn. And considering Rhiannon is the better warrior, as well as my foster sister, I assumed that she would be better accepted into the council. Now calm yourself. Boromir of Gondor rode out with her. And we sent Eliana and Hama to Gondor, as a decoy."

"You are sure that she is safe?"

"Of course. Eomer, you know that I care for Rhiannon as if she were my sister. And I am not oblivious to the way that the two of you care for each other, but I do not understand why you have hid it from my father, why you haven't declared yourselves betrothed to each other."

"Because of Grima. If he knew that Rhiannon and I desired each other, he would do everything that he could to make sure that we would not wed. He wants both Rhiannon and Eowyn, and there is not much we can do, but hope to keep them safe."

Theodred sighed softly, resting his head briefly on the flank of his horse, Brego. He hated that his land had become so quiet, so nearly mournful, and it was all because of Saruman and Grima's betrayal. He knew that even now, Grima was probably trying to plot a way to get rid of him, and that his father was getting weaker with each passing day. But he also knew that there was still one heir, and that was Rhiannon. And if Grima wed her by force, then he would become a contender for the crown of Rohan if something happened to both Theodred and his father. Which was another reason that he had chosen to send Rhiannon to Rivendell, to keep her, and by default, the kingdom safe from the clutch of Saruman and Grima. It was truly the only hope for their land, and for the future. Dragging a hand through his long, dark locks, the prince of Rohan finished rubbing down his steed before beginning to put supplies away.

"Relax, Cousin. And remember. Rhiannon is in Gondor, safe, with an aunt of hers who is ill and needs help. Say nothing of Rivendell or of Elrond's council. I told Grima that none of us were going." Theodred spoke quietly.

* * *

-Rivendell,

"My Lord, my Lady, welcome to Rivendell." Elladan, the eldest son of Elrond, the Lord of Rivendell, gave a welcoming smile to Boromir and Rhiannon as the pair rode through the main gates of the Elven haven, both of them looking around at the bright and full foliage around them. "We had not received word that Rohan was sending representation, though, but you are most welcome, Lady Rhiannon."

"That is one thing I need to speak to Lord Elrond about. We had a need to travel in secret, to not let it slip that Rohan was attending the council here." Rhiannon spoke quietly, the look on her face grave as she thought about her homeland's situation.

"Of course. But please, follow us. We will take you to the stables, so that you may see personally to your horses if you wish, and then we will show you to the main halls and your chambers." Elrohir, Elladan's younger twin, gave a short nod.

Both Rhiannon and Boromir nodded, and kept their horses' paces slow as they followed the small contingent of Elves over a bridge and into the true haven that was Rivendell. The city was well protected and hidden, and it was rare to get close to the halls without anyone being aware that a person was near. Rhiannon shifted subtly in the saddle, her eyes flickering around, almost as if she was judging different areas, and how easily they could be both penetrated or defended, and a quick glance at Boromir told her that the Gondorian captain was doing the exact same thing. It was a warrior's habit, and one that was hard, if not impossible to break. And Rhiannon knew that such caution and observation could be beneficial and lifesaving at different times. It had saved her life more than once, as well as the lives of the men that she led. The group reached the stables fairly quickly, and Rhiannon carefully inspected the stall that Elladan motioned towards, her horse standing still at the door of the stall with only a quiet word, and finally she caught the bridle of the horse, and led it into the stall, murmuring quietly the entire time, helping the horse accept its new home.

"Your horse will be well cared for while you stay in Rivendell, my lady." Elrohir spoke reassuringly, watching the young woman.

"I will see to Loso's needs while we stay here. He still is not fully broken to strangers, and wouldn't take to not seeing me every day." Rhiannon spoke quietly, her hand moving in a soothing motion down the horse's neck, nuzzling her face against his for a moment.

"As you wish." Elrohir nodded.

After securing their horses in the stable, the travelers and their guides made their way towards the main hall of Rivendell, with Boromir and Rhiannon still looking around in wonder at the grand architecture that surrounded them. The group made their way up a set of stone stairs, to the main hall, and into the building. Glancing around, they soon spotted Elrond waiting for them, looking somber yet welcoming at the same time, and Rhiannon had a feeling that it was a learned facial expression, showing the seriousness of the situation that all of Middle-Earth was in. An expression that Rhiannon knew she could potentially have to learn, as she would remain the main hostess of Rohan until Theodred was wed.

"Welcome to Rivendell, Lady Rhiannon and Lord Boromir. I trust that you found our stables adequate for your horses?" Elrond's gaze mainly focused on the Rohan leader.

"More than, Lord Elrond. You have a very nice setup here." Rhiannon nodded once, her gaze still flickering around the hall.

"You are among our first guests, but we are expecting more tonight. Please, allow my men to show you to your chambers, and rest. Dinner is not for quite a while yet. And feel free to wander Rivendell. All is open to any guest."

* * *

-Outside the East Gate of Rivendell

Irsa stroked her horse's neck as it sated its thirst from a small creek. Hesitating a moment, she carefully traded her dark riding cloak for one of a deep scarlet, which would tell nearly anyone that she met along the paths of Rivendell who she truly was. But she knew that it was time for her to come forth, to show that she was ready to take her place in the Wizards' Council once more, and to take her place in the council making the final decisions of Middle-Earth. She knew that Elrond would be pessimistic as to if she would show, but she knew that Gandalf believed in her. He still remembered that when Irsa gave her word to something, she followed through. She had told Gandalf that she would attend the council, and that was exactly what she was planning on doing. With a sigh, the tall, thin Wizard easily climbed back into the saddle of her horse, and settled her cloak about her before freeing her staff from its strap. Holding the long staff of redwood at her side, she nudged her horse into a light trot through the gate, and easily spotted a small group of Elves and one Man waiting to greet her. One of the Elves stepped forward, and opened his mouth to speak before merely staring for several seconds.

"Irsa? Then the rumors are true?" Elladan stared at his father's old friend.

"That I have left my exile? Yes, Elladan. I have come for the council, to share in knowledge and help protect Middle-Earth the way that I have been doing for these three thousand years." Irsa gave a short nod.

"Then my father will be pleased that you have come. Please, follow us to the stables and then the main hall." Elladan motioned for Irsa to follow.

Several moments later, Irsa strode into the main hall, holding her staff firmly at her side. Glancing around the hall, she had to give a faint smile at how familiar everything still looked. In the three thousand years that she'd hidden herself, hardly anything had changed in the haven, and it made her feel better about being there, made her concerns disappear, if only for the moment. Shrugging her cloak from her shoulders, she handed it to one of the servants hovering nearby, and let her smile grow when she spotted Elrond making his way towards her, a genuinely welcoming smile on his face.

"Irsa. So good to see you. You've hidden yourself too long, yet look the same as the last time I saw you." Elrond's voice was gentle, and hoping that he wouldn't stir painful memories for the woman.

"And you look much the same as well, Elrond. I had not realized how much I had missed Rivendell until I had arrived. It's completely refreshing to be here again, much as it always was. This is a pure land." Irsa held out her hand, and laughed when it was nudged aside for an embrace from the Elven lord.

"Come, my friend. I'll walk with you to your chambers. You don't mind staying in the chambers you always used when you visited, do you?"

"Of course not. I left many things here, including my council robes, and some more formal wear for dinners and such. Are they still there?"

"They are. We had them cleaned and repaired. I'm sure you will find your room much as you had left it the last time. If anything needs any adjusting, you'll just let me know, and I will take care of it. Dinner is soon, Irsa. I can expect you to be there?"

"I will be there."

With a slight nod, Irsa opened the door that led to her private chambers, the same chambers she'd used before the Great War. Glancing around, she set her bag on the bed, and realized that Elrond was right; the room was nearly identical to how she had left it. And yet, it appeared as if she had been there only the day before. The room was clean, and the closet was sitting with the door partially open. Making her way over to it, she opened the door completely, she smiled, her eyes drifting from the dark red Council robes to the evening and dinner gowns and her old training gear. Moving away from the closet, she let her fingertips trail over the woodwork that was used as decoration around the room before she reached the vanity, and smiled at the silver brush, comb, and mirror set there, as well as a small box that she knew contained a few lips stains and such, the slight makeup that she had once worn. And she hadn't worn any at all in over three thousand years. Turning back to the closet, she selected a long smooth column of a dress in a light, frosted green as laid it out on the bed along with a thin, silk chemise. Quickly shedding her travel gear, she leaned her staff against the bedpost, tossing the dirty and stained cloak and clothing into a pile near the door to have washed. Pulling the chemise over her head, she adjusted it, then carefully stepped into the gown. Lacing the front carefully, she moved over to the vanity counter, she glanced in the mirror, feeling a slight shock to be dressed in such fine garments again, and lifted the brush. Pulling it through her fiery locks, she smiled slightly as the golden strands in her hair caught the sunlight seeping through the window. She had what Gandalf, and then Anarion had called true sunrise hair, a mixture of reds, oranges, and gold that fell now just past her waist. Deciding to leave it loose, she stepped into a pair of black slippers before grabbing her staff and leaving the room, carefully shutting the door behind her.

Turning a corner, she started at the sight of what looked like children, then she realized that the three people she saw weren't children, but adults, and knew instantly that they were the Halflings, or Hobbits that were so fascinating to Gandalf. With a faint smile, she made her way towards them, found it amusing when they all spun and simply stared at her, and the staff in her hand.

"Are you a Wizard?" One of them quickly piped up.

"Yes, I am. Irsa the Red Wizard. And who are you?" She eyed each of them curiously.

"I'm Pippin. Peregrin Took, actually. But I prefer Pippin, or Pip." The shortest of the group nodded instantly. "This is my cousin Merry, Meriadoc Brandybuck, and this is Samwise Gamgee, or Sam."

"Are you the only Hobbits here in Rivendell?"

"No. my other cousin, Frodo Baggins. He's here as well, under Elrond's care. He was hurt."

"Well, there's no better healer I know than Elrond. He's healed me before."

Irsa's face clouded slightly at the thought, remembering the last times that Elrond had healed her, during the war, and after she had miscarried. She knew that his skill was unparalleled, and probably had remained that way even now, after the years she had been away. Smoothing a small wrinkle out of her dress, she eyed the three Hobbits in front of her, realizing instantly how easy they could captivate someone. They were so open and trusting, and so likeable, she could understand why Gandalf spent so much time in the Shire, and talked about the Hobbits. And she was figuring that this Frodo that was under Elrond's care was a relative of the Bilbo Baggins that Gandalf had taken on an adventure once.

"Now. Let's see if I have this straight. You are Samwise Gamgee, and are often called Sam. You are Meriadoc Brandybuck, but prefer Merry. And you are Peregrin Took, but everyone calls you Pippin or Pip. And Frodo Baggins is the missing Hobbit, who is under Elrond's care." She smiled at each of the Hobbits.

"You're fast!" Pippin looked rather surprised, nodding somewhat.

"Why, thank you, Pippin."

"So, are you a friend of Gandalf's?" Merry eyed the young looking Wizard curiously.

"Gandalf was my mentor, when I was younger. He helped me form my powers, and find my place in the Council." She smiled slowly. "And I can understand now why he speaks most highly of you Hobbits. I must insist that you all accompany me to dinner, and sit with me, and tell me of the Shire from your perspective."

From around the corner, Gandalf watched, amusement twinkling in his eyes, as Irsa was nearly swept off her feet by the overeager Hobbits, all of them talking rather rapidly. Leaning on his staff, he shook his head, chuckling, rather glad that Irsa had run into the Hobbits, knowing that they would provide a perfect diversion and distraction for her.

"It's amazing, the power of innocents. Without even trying, they can bring joy to a heart that has only wept for the past years." Elrond spoke quietly from behind Gandalf.

"And she needs that more than ever. The Hobbits bring her comfort, but she'll use them as a shield this night, to protect herself from her chosen destiny." Gandalf shook his head slowly.

"Aragorn?"

"No, our Irsa was never meant to be queen. And Aragorn's destiny had already been laid out for him. Irsa is meant for Boromir."

"Boromir? Gandalf, that man is filled with arrogance and ignorance. He is not fair and chivalrous as Anarion was. He and Irsa will be at each other's throats at the smallest things."

"Which is exactly what Irsa needs. Someone to draw the fire and passion out of her. She is the only Wizard who was granted the chance to find love, and she needs a true, pure love that she would be willing to sacrifice all for. Irsa did not show that she was willing to sacrifice even herself to save Anarion during the war. This time, she knows the chance that she must take."

"And if she doesn't? If she and Boromir cannot put their differences aside, what will happen to Middle-Earth, Gandalf?"

"You know, as well as I do. The cycle will be over. Boromir will die. Irsa will be slain by Sauron, and Middle-Earth will fall completely under Sauron's shadow."

"Then let us all hope that Irsa and Boromir will make it work between them, and that Irsa realizes what she must do."

On the opposite side of the hall, Rhiannon stepped tentatively into the room, glancing around. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek knot at the base of her neck, and a thin circlet of silver circled her head, showing her rank as a princess of a land. Brushing her hand down the dark green velvet of her skirt, she held her head high as she started for the table. Her gaze found Boromir already sitting and eating, deep in conversation with several men. With a faint smile on her face, she decided to leave him be, and started for one of the only empty seats in the hall, settling easily next to a tall, dark haired man, who looked to be deep in thought.

"Is this seat spoken for?" Her voice stayed quiet, one eyebrow arched slightly.

"Of course not, m'lady. Have a seat." The man rose, and easily pulled the chair out, motioning for her to sit. "You are the Lady Rhiannon, of Rohan are you not?"

"I am. You are… you are Aragorn, the Ranger from the North?"

"You guess well, my lady." He sat back down in his own seat, and motioned to the food in dishes along the middle of the table. "Help yourself. Everything is delicious. The kitchens are among the best in Middle-Earth."

Rhiannon merely nodded, carefully selecting a few foods that she recognized, her gaze flicking about the hall, finding all of the exits, and the best places to defend from, and the worst, most open places. It was an instinct that had been drilled into her since childhood, and one that she wasn't able to shake easily. She knew that there was always the chance that she would have to ascend to the throne of Rohan, especially with Grima's betrayal and how quickly her foster father's health was declining. She knew that both Eomer and Theodred would be on Grima's hit list, because they would always stand in between him and Eowyn and Rhiannon. Eating her food almost thoughtfully, she arched an eyebrow slightly when she realized that Aragorn was watching her, and turned slightly to face him.

"You are not of Rohan, not truly." His voice was quiet, but sure of himself.

"My true father was from Rohan, a good friend of the king. But he fell in love with my mother, and moved to Gondor, because she was a member of the royal family. My mother died giving birth to me, and my father died when I was four, defending Osgilith. His last request was for me to be taken to Rohan, to be raised by Theoden. He became my father, and I became the Third Marshall of the Mark." Rhiannon explained quietly, knowing most were shocked at her heritage.

"Which son are you descended from?" He gave a wry smile.

"Isildur's second son, Aratan. We are distant cousins, through the lines, are we not, Aragorn?"

"Yes, we are. And here we both are, to decide the fate of Middle-Earth along with members of nearly every race, and of nearly every station. But such dreary matters are for the morrow. Have you explored Rivendell yet?"

"Some. Mostly the stables and outer posts. I'm a defender to the very core, thanks to the training I began at a young age."

"Then when you have finished, we will explore together, cousin."


	4. Chapter 4

-October 24th

"Strangers from distant lands, friends of old, you have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-Earth stands on the brink of destruction, none can escape it. You will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom. Bring forth the Ring, Frodo."

Irsa could not even force herself to look at the ring that the young Hobbit set carefully on a stone pedestal in the center of the council balcony. She knew what the Ring looked like. It was a seemingly plain gold band, but she knew that there was untold evil bound into it. She instead let her gaze drift to Boromir, studying him quietly. She knew from watching the people around Rivendell that he was the only possible choice to be her destined mate. But the one who caught her attention the most was the only other female in attendance at the council, Rhiannon of Rohan. But her gaze was drawn back to Boromir when his hand reached for the Ring as he spoke quietly.

"So it is true. In a dream, I saw the Eastern sky grow dark. But in the West, a pale light lingered. And a voice was crying 'Doom is near at hand. Isildur's bane is found.'" His voice was low. "Isildur's bane…"

"Boromir." A sharp voice came from Irsa's left, and her gaze focused on Aragorn, the descendent of Isildur himself.

Irsa glanced at Gandalf, and when he nodded, she closed her eyes, knowing that joining her voice with his would make the revelation stronger, and also give more strength to the rumor that she knew was crossing Middle-Earth about her departure from the Fangorn Forest.

"Ash Nazg Durbatuluk, Ash Nazg Gimbatul, Ash Nazg Thrakatuluk, Agh Burzum-ishi Krimpatul." The two Wizards spoke in unison, the words ringing powerful as the sky around Rivendell darkened, then lightened just as swiftly.

"One Ring to rule them all, one Ring to find them, one Ring to bring them all and in the darkness, bind them." Irsa's voice was quiet and soft, providing translation for a majority of the council.

"Never before has anyone dared to utter words of that tongue here, in Imladris." Elrond stared in near disbelief at the two Wizards.

"I do not ask for pardon, Master Elrond, nor does Irsa, for the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the West! The Ring is altogether evil." Gandalf spoke swiftly.

"It is a gift, a gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this gift? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of my people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him!" Boromir spoke, standing.

"You cannot wield it. None of us can." Irsa spoke softly.

"The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other Master." Aragorn added quietly.

"And what does a Ranger know of this?" Boromir sneered, his gaze merely brushing over Irsa before focusing on Aragorn.

"This is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn." Legolas, Prince of the Elven realm of Mirkwood, stood instantly in defense of the man. "You owe him your allegiance."

"Aragorn? This is Isildur's heir?" Boromir stared in disbelief.

"And heir to the throne of Gondor." Legolas continued.

"Habalar, Legolas." Aragorn asked the Elf to sit down quietly.

"Gondor has no king. Gondor needs no king." Boromir made his way back to his seat, unaware of the uneasiness now rolling in Irsa's stomach from his behavior and words.

"Aragorn and Irsa are right. We cannot use it." Gandalf shook his head some, leaning back in his seat.

"Then you have but one choice." Elrond glanced around the council. "The Ring must be destroyed."

"Then what are we waiting for?"

Irsa merely raised an eyebrow when no one made a move to stop the Dwarf who leapt to his feet and grabbed his axe. Shaking his head when he raced towards the Ring, and then brought his weapon down upon it, she winced from the flash of light and clanging when the axe shattered, revealing the Ring still on the pedestal, unmarred. Leaning back in her seat, she watched the Dwarves carefully help their kin back into his chair before letting her gaze drift back to Elrond, knowing that he would soon be addressing the council again.

"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin, by any craft we here possess. It was made in the fires of Mount Doom, only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came. One of you must do this." The Elf Lord let his gaze fall on each member of the council.

"One does not simply walk into Mordor. It's Black Gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that cannot sleep. The Great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire, ash, and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly." Boromir shook his head slowly.

"Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed!" Legolas rose to his feet.

"And I supposed you think that you're the one to do it?" Gimli shot out of his seat, glaring at the Elf.

"And what if we fail? What then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?" Boromir demanded.

Irsa stayed silent, exchanging a look with Elrond, then gazed in shock when Gandalf rose to argue with the rest of the council. A quick glance around the area showed that only she, Elrond, Aragorn, Rhiannon, and Frodo stayed out of the fight that the rest of the council was having over who should take control of the Ring. And Irsa knew that this was playing directly into Sauron's hands. He was planning on the Races not being able to work together, not being able to co-exist even long enough to attempt to destroy him.

"I will take it." Frodo's voice barely broke the noise level, but quickly rose in volume. "I will take it! I will take the Ring to Mordor. Although, I do not know the way."

"I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as I is yours to bear." Gandalf walked over to the Hobbit slowly, resting his hand on his shoulder.

"If by my life or death I can protect you, I will." Aragorn rose, only to kneel in front of Frodo. "You have my sword."

"And you have my bow." Legolas spoke up.

"And my axe." Gimli growled.

"You carry the fate of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the council, then Gondor shall see it done." Boromir rose, sealing Irsa's fate as he joined the others.

"As will Rohan." Rhiannon rose. "I know that most do not look to women to fight, Frodo Baggins, but I was raised a warrior. I will protect you."

"Rhiannon, you are an heir." Boromir looked shocked. "You cannot-"

"I can. You are not my father, nor are you my brother, Boromir. I was sent to do what was necessary. This is what is needed." Rhiannon remained firm.

"Hey! Mr. Frodo's going nowhere without me!" Sam suddenly shot up from his hiding spot to stand next to Frodo.

"No, indeed." Elrond looked rather amused. "It is hardly possible to separate you, even when he is summoned to a secret council, and you are not."

"Hey! We're coming too!" Pippin jumped from his hiding spot, Merry close behind him, making Irsa chuckle.

"You'll have to send us home tied in a sack to stop us." Merry nodded seriously.

"Besides," Pippin smirked, "you need people of intelligence on this sort of quest… mission… thing."

"Well, that rules you out, Pip." Merry eyed his cousin.

"Ten companion-" Elrond began.

"Eleven." Irsa interrupted the Elven lord, standing slowly as she let her cloak fall back, ignoring the eyes staring intently at her. "Eleven companions. I will do now what I should have done three thousand years before. I will go out to work actively in destroying Sauron. Frodo Baggins, I will help you end this reign of darkness that Middle-Earth is being enveloped in."

"Eleven companions, then. Very well. You shall be known as the Fellowship of the Ring." Elrond's voice was rather solemn.

"Great. Where are we going?" Pippin looked at those surrounding him.

Several hours later, Aragorn found Rhiannon sitting on a bench in one of the many gardens surrounding Rivendell. The young woman looked pensive, her gaze the east. The Ranger easily sat next to her, feeling an odd kinship with her, despite having only met her days before. He knew it was because they were both descendents of Gondor's princes, despite having very different lives. He had grown up wandering the wilderness and she had been raised as a warrior princess.

"You are nervous about traveling towards Mordor?" Aragorn spoke quietly.

"No. I merely wonder what is happening in Rohan. I left so many loved ones behind, and now a part of me wonder if my decision to take my brother's place here was wrong." Rhiannon turned her gaze to her distant cousin.

"Rohan is a strong land. Obviously, they thought you would be the most suitable choice here in Rivendell."

"No. My brother sent me to keep me out of Saruman's grasp. His servant has our father under his control, and he covets both me and my cousin, Eowyn. Theodred knew if I did not leave Meduseld, Grima would try to claim me, and I would kill him, which would bring the wrath of Saruman on our land, which is something we cannot afford. So I left my family behind to come here. Grima, and most of Rohan, believes that I am in Gondor, caring for an ill relation."

"A wise deception. Your brother sounds like a wise man, Rhiannon. A future king. I can tell you love him very much."

"I do. He's so insightful, and never protested when I was brought into the household. He simply accepted me as his younger sister as if I had been born to his parents. I never thought that I would leave Rohan."

"Your father had no plans to marry you to one of Gondor's nobles?"

"No. I am betrothed, but we had to hide it because of Saruman and Grima's interference."

"You are betrothed, yet you willingly agree to a mission that could possibly mean death?"

"I have to save my people. Eomer understands that Rohan must come first, no matter how much we love each other. He must be frantic with worry as to where I am. He knows I have no kin in Gondor."

Aragorn merely nodded, and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He wasn't exactly sure what to think of his young cousin, for she had so many sides. She was strong, that he could see clearly, for she was a born leader. Yet she was still so young, compared to his own age.


End file.
